


Forgive

by ScorchedSiren (Sailor_Mercury)



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, POV Third Person Plural, Post-The Death Cure, Spoilers, The Death Cure, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Maze Runner Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailor_Mercury/pseuds/ScorchedSiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s one of the colder nights, and Thomas hates those the most. He can never sleep well, but these are the hardest. It feels like every little thing reminds him, screams at him, begs him. And just like that, he’s awake until dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgive

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Thominewt piece that takes place after The Death Cure in Paradise
> 
> I apologize for any verb tense errors or ooc

It’s one of the colder nights, and Thomas hates those the most. He can never sleep well, but these are the hardest. It feels like every little thing reminds him, screams at him, begs him. And just like that, he’s awake until dawn.

During the day, he can forget. He can pretend. But come nightfall the pictures flood back, haunting him even in his dreams. There’s no escape, and Thomas isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to get away from it. Guilt. Thomas had never felt it this badly, on this scale. It was eating him alive and swallowing him whole. Every time he looked at his best friend, it was just a reminder of what he had done and what his friend didn’t know.

There’s a slight breeze coming off of the ocean. Memories play in front of his eyes like a movie. Blue eyes, light laughter, and a person with as much heart and fight that one single man can contain. It seems like just yesterday they were exchanging introductions but the bitter reality hit Thomas like a wave crashing onto the sand. Two years. It had been two years since that day. The day they came here and were finally free. Well, free from the Flare and WICKED and the harsh world they lived in. Yet still, Thomas could remember the same voice, the look of madness, the desperation and pleading of insanity.

Sometimes he regrets it. Sometimes he doesn’t. But he always wonders what would have happened if things had turned out for the better. He always wonders why, of all the people, it had to be him.

“Hey shank. Can’t sleep?” A shock of chills sweep over Thomas as he hears the familiar voice and there’s a single moment where he absolutely hates himself. And then that moment is over and he turns to see his friend Minho, standing behind him. His eyes are looking out over the ocean, lost in thought.

“Yeah, too much on my mind I guess.” Thomas lets his eyes flicker back to the ocean as Minho comes beside him and sits down on the grassy hilltop as well.

There’s a moment of silence, of quiet, where all they can hear are the chirping crickets and the quiet rush of the water and it would be peaceful and serene if Thomas didn’t feel a lump in his throat and a hole in his heart. All he can think about are those last words, those three words and that last trembling look that still rips him apart every damn time he remembers it. The next words out of Minho’s mouth are like a punch to the gut.

“Do you miss him, too?” Thomas knows he has no right for the rest of his life to miss him. But he nods and his voice is lost in the depths of his throat and he’s never wanted to tell the truth more than this single second because Minho never brings him up. But he vowed to himself he would take it to the grave, no matter how painful it may be to keep that promise.

Another moment passes over and Thomas sees in Minho’s eyes that he’s remembering their good old friend and all the good old times they must’ve had together. Thomas feels tears sting the back of his eyes and there’s a sob stuck in his throat that he’s biting down because he’s gotten this far and Minho can never know and why, why, why, did it have to be him?

“Do you think he’s still out there somewhere?” And there’s this hint of hope that just breaks Thomas once and for all, and he can’t help but let out an ugly, strangled sob and look down as the tears fall, hot and fast. He’s so ashamed that he can’t even look Minho in the eye as his friend asks him if he’s alright. So instead of saying anything, Thomas just shakes his head and Minho scoots a little closer and throws an arm around his shoulder, trying to offer solace and comfort.

But Thomas knows he doesn’t deserve this either, so he shrugs it off and gets to his feet, his eyes staring at the ocean. The dark, empty, cold, vast ocean. And he just feels so angry.

“Dude, just tell me what’s wrong. You can trust me.” Minho stands up and puts his hand on Thomas’s shoulder and Thomas feels it burning into his skin, into his muscles, into his bones.

“I can’t tell you. Not this.” Thomas says. He tries to keep his voice level and steady, but it’s wavering and Minho notices. Thomas tries to swallow the lump once again but it doesn’t work, it never works.

“Come on dude, just…” Minho trails off because what can he say? He’s always sensed Thomas was different, that something had changed, but how bad could it be? “Just tell me. I can help you.” Thomas can’t help but laugh. It’s hollow and bitter but what else is he supposed to do? He turns around to Minho and he feels as if he’s gone slightly mad himself, holding this in the past two years.

“No, you can’t. In fact, you’ll hate me forever. You’ll never forgive me.” By the end of the sentence, Thomas is quiet, and his vision’s blurry again. He exhales and presses his fists against his eyes, trying to stop the tears because he knows that he doesn’t get to cry. Minho stays silent, hurt and confused by his friend. The only other sounds are Thomas’s breathing, in and out, trying to get regular again.

“It’s about Newt, isn’t it?” It comes out as more of a statement than a question and Minho’s heart drops as Thomas nods, biting his lip.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” Thomas vowed to never tell Minho, from day one, but what is a vow worth when you can barely function without wanting to shout your confession to the whole world? Silence settles over the two and it’s so thick and heavy that it weighs down, as heavy as the weight on Thomas’s heart.

“I want to know.” Minho’s voice is flat and his heart is racing faster than ever but he’s been wondering for two years while Thomas has known the whole time and he’ll be lying if he says he’s not the least bit angry.

Thomas looks up at the sky. It’s cloudy and starless and just unbelievably fitting. He wonders one last time if he’s doing the right thing and he almost swears he hears Newt saying “It’s okay Tommy” (but then again, that wouldn’t be the first time he imagined Newt saying that). He turns to face Minho, whose face is expressionless and who is waiting patiently. Now or never.

“Newt’s dead. And I killed him.” It’s completely flat and monotone. Those six words hang in the stale night air, permanently. It seems as if the woods and the ocean fade away and the world is completely dead, just for a second. And then Thomas breaks.

He cries and sobs and screams and he can’t bear to look at Minho for another second. He turns towards the ocean and he wants to run, disappear, and fade away from everything. His fingers are threaded in his hair and he falls to his knees, screaming and crying. He’s kept this bottled up for two years and finally, finally, he can let it out.

Minho doesn’t know what to feel. He’s numb. Every fiber and nerve is cold and he’s just shocked to the core. He can’t register the fact that Newt, the guy he knew and cared about and loved like a brother is just gone. He thought he’d feel something when Newt died, he had this glimmering faith that Newt must be alive because he’d know if Newt was… But here they were, and Newt was dead.

How could Thomas keep this from him? How could Thomas even do something like that in the first place? Every single cell in his body was immediately ignited with burning fury as hot as the sun. He closed the gap to Thomas and grabbed the boy’s shoulders, dragging him and pulling at him until Thomas fumbled onto his feet.

“How could you?!” Minho’s voice is raw with hatred and emotion and Thomas feels a wave of shame flood his body as he turns to face the other boy. “How could you do that to him, huh? And how could you not tell me?!” Minho is yelling and his face is inches from Thomas but every atom of him is a fire and he can’t control it. And Thomas is the ocean, drowning and filled with secrets that Minho doesn’t want to wait another second to hear.

“I’m sorry!” Thomas yells back and he means it with every ounce of his being. “I’m so fucking sorry, Minho. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to have to carry this burden around! I didn’t want you to think about it every damn day of your life. I figured if I let you believe there was a chance he was okay, there was a chance he was even alive, you’d be better off! I was trying to protect you.” Thomas’s voice is a thousand times softer and it’s filled with so much regret and sorrow that Minho can’t help but back off just a bit. The iron-clad grip he had on Thomas’s shirt loosens and he steps back a bit, trying to process it all.

“What the hell happened?” Disbelief is the best way to describe Minho’s tone. It’s just impossible that Newt could be…

Thomas shakes his head, trying not to cry again. He’s blinking back tears and his hands are clenched into fists and his eyes turn back towards the ocean but Minho can tell they’re miles away, lost in a memory from years ago.

“He was gone Minho. A shell of the Newt we knew. You know what we saw at the crank palace? It was worse. Much worse. I-I couldn’t leave him with those people!” Thomas turned around, his eyes locked back on Minho’s. “I tried to get him to come. He wouldn’t.” Thomas sounded hollow again, empty. His eyes looked the same way.

“He’d given me a note, that first day when we took the Berg and escaped. He asked me to kill him. He wrote “Kill me. If you’ve ever been my friend, kill me.” I didn’t find it until after we came back and… and then he was gone. Then, on the way to the hangar… I saw him. He wasn’t himself, you know?” Thomas took a pause in his story to compose himself a bit. “He was beaten and bloody and just so broken. He wasn’t Newt. He told me about the limp. He told me a lot, actually. He told me he hated me. He told me the whole thing was my fault, and he tackled me. You should’ve seen him Minho. He was so bad. He grabbed the gun and pointed it at himself and he just begged-“ Minho heard as Thomas cut himself off with a sharp cry, only to stifle it a second later. “He begged me to do it. He just kept yelling ‘kill me! Kill me Tommy kill me!’ And then, he said it one last time. Kill Me. Just like his note.

“His last words were ‘Please Tommy, Please’. And I looked him straight in the eye as he said it and I saw him. I saw Newt, the real Newt. The strong and noble Newt was begging me to kill him with the last grasp of his sanity and… I couldn’t deny him his dying wish. It’s what he wanted.” After Thomas was finally finished, he sat back down on the ground, defeated. After two years he finally got to tell somebody exactly what happened that day. He looked down at the ground, the same scenario replaying in his head over and over.

Minho stood there silently, taking it all in. He understood why Newt would want to die. Hell, if he was in that position he’d do the same exact thing. But to be in Thomas’ position? He couldn’t imagine that. That took a lot. Of what, he wasn’t exactly sure, he just knew that he would never have been able to do it in a million years. He was broken out of his trance by Thomas’ soft cries. His eyes wandered over to where the other boy sat, wiping at his cheeks quietly and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

Minho sighed and sat beside Thomas, his eyes looking out over the ocean. “I understand why you did it. And I understand why he asked you. You’re the only one who could. I’m sure it’s what he would’ve wanted, sane or not. And I’m sure he forgives you.” Minho said quietly. Thomas sniffed beside him and he reached over and pressed his hand against the other boy’s back, trying to offer reassurance.

“Can you forgive me?” Thomas asked, looking up at the ex-runner. His voice was throaty and raw from the crying and screaming. Minho inhaled deeply, looking out over the hilltop. He stayed quiet for a while, trying to form the thoughts into a sentence. Thomas waited patiently, his eyes focused on Minho, waiting.

“Yeah. I think I can. I need a little time to let it sink in and grieve I guess but he was suffering. There comes a time when you have to take into account the quality of life. And if it was as bad as you say it was… Newt didn’t even have a life at that point.” Minho felt his own tears, hot and heavy, blurring up his vision. He closed his eyes quickly, trying to keep himself composed.

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m sorry.” Thomas said, standing up. He looked out over the ocean once more before turning and walking back to the homes.

“And Thomas?” Minho said, turning and glancing over his shoulder at the other boy.

“Yeah?” The crickets were chirping again and the waves were crashing and the world was still spinning.

“You gotta forgive yourself.” Thomas didn’t say anything in reply, he just kept walking on his way. Minho sighed and brought his knees up to his chest, resting his arms on them.

So Newt was gone. His best friend was at rest forever. At least he was in peace now. Minho couldn’t imagine living as a crank. He’d go crazy, figuratively and literally.

His eyes fluttered shut as he let the sounds of his surroundings flood his senses, trying to make him feel a bit more at ease. The sound of the waves crashing rhythmically on the shore was soothing, and Newt could almost hear a pattern. He leaned back until his back hit the grass and he opened his eyes, staring up at the sky. It was still cold, there was still a breeze, but the clouds were gone. Stars littered the sky in vibrant clusters, shining bright against the black canvas.

“Hey buddy.” His voice was a whisper as he spoke, staring up at the sky. “Look, wherever you are, I just wanted to let you know that I know you’re gone. I’m happy you’re in a better place now. I wish I had known sooner. I just want to say I understand. And I know why you chose Thomas to do it. And I forgive him. But Newt? I forgive you too.” And with that, Minho shut his eyes and continued listening to the gentle sounds of the tide. And he could swear he heard Newt say his name somewhere in the wind.


End file.
